The Wizard Who Wasn't
by Z. Alexander
Summary: It was not a superiority complex; it was envy. Harry just didn’t know that.


No, I didn't write this today. I wrote it ages ago, and stored it on the Reject Stick - the place I keep all the stuff I don't like. However, I reread it and I kinda like it now, so I'm posting it. It was inspired by the sixth book; what made Dudley shake hands with Harry and (effectively) apologize?

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. I don't think I'd claim it even if I could; "Nineteen Years Later" = bad fanfic.

* * *

The day before my eleventh birthday, I received a letter on a piece of parchment. The envelope was addressed to me. It listed where I slept. And it told me that I was accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I showed Mum the letter, thinking it was a joke. But she didn't laugh or scoff; she got angry and, for the first time, shouted at me. She told me that magic was nonsense, and if she had her way, it would never be mentioned in the house again. She went off to write a letter – presumably to the school – and even _I _had enough sense not to mention it again.

From her reaction, I knew that magic was real. I felt as though I had lost a chance to be part of something big; much bigger than going to Smeltings like my father before me. But Mum had scared me; she only shouted at my cousin. So I worked very hard not to think about it. Mum made it up to me by taking me to the zoo, and when the glass disappeared and the snake snapped at me, I decided magic must be dangerous and I was better off without it.

And then my cousin got _his _letter.

I recognized the envelope as soon as I saw it – and I was upset. I had always felt inferior to my cousin; oh, my parents pampered me and spoiled me and told me over and over that I was the better boy, but Harry Potter had always had better marks than me in school. He could cook well, because he was allowed (forced, really) to. He was small and quick because he wasn't well-fed, like me; and I knew that the reason my parents pushed so many nice things on me was that they wanted _him _to feel inferior.

In the end, everyone paid more attention to Harry Potter, even if that meant giving me presents and cakes and anything I asked for.

So I tried to take away his chance at going to that school. I had assumed that because Mum didn't want to hear the word 'magic' in the house, and because she didn't care for my cousin, she would let him go, but if I made a big enough fuss about it, she would give in – as always. I told her, in an _accusing _tone of voice, that Harry had something.

I was happy when my parents got angry and sent him to his cupboard. I was _not _happy when I realized that this school wanted Harry more than they wanted me.

Again, everybody paid more attention to Harry Potter. Dad even dragged us all out to a hut on a tiny rock so that They wouldn't get to him.

When the giant man came to get my cousin, I wondered for a moment if he would take me along as well. I thought – hoped, actually – that I would be important enough to recognize. That I would be important enough to be _kidnapped, _even.

But I wasn't. It was only _Harry._

Instead, the giant man gave me a pig's tail and insulted my family. Then he expected my father to get my cousin to King's Cross. I was left behind again.

I hated him, after that. I had been _sure _he would come back after his first year and ask me to come along; after all, we'd both been invited to the school, so someone _must _have mentioned that I should have been there. But he didn't say a word, and I realized he must have decided not to bother.

Whenever I was angry, I hurt people. My teachers said it was not a good habit, but I didn't care; my father had gotten through life with the same tendencies, and he was a fairly successful businessman. So, naturally, I hurt Harry. I still don't know if it was a stupid idea or not, but he threatened me with magic and I can't understand why he didn't do anything.

When he saved me from those strange cloaked things, I thought about the day my mother took my letter and denied me something for the first time. I thought about how my parents got angry at him for somehow jumping to the roof, but my friends all thought it was neat for a few days. I thought about my first day at Smeltings, where everyone laughed at me because of my size. I remembered the day six boys ganged up on me when I was alone, because they didn't like my 'attitude.' I remembered telling my father school was wonderful, and everyone liked me – even though I only had one friend, and he only liked me because Mum always sent me sweets and I was so desperate for a friend that I shared them with him. The worst part, though, was feeling cold and sick and _knowing _that I would never be as important as Harry Potter.

When he left for his sixth year, I had realized a few things. It had become apparent that no one had told him about me – so I couldn't fault him for that. I had gone through some bad experiences, which had made me understand how awful I'd been to him. But most importantly, I'd seen enough to know that my parents were blind, and it wasn't Harry's fault they hated him. He couldn't help genetics.

When I shook hands with him, I knew it would never be fixed, but I felt a little better, knowing someday he might forgive me. Mum and Dad didn't understand, and they even got a little angry at me, but I'm glad I did it – I had finally made peace with my cousin, and myself, and the world that forgot me.


End file.
